The Dark Future

He sat, still. The dank smell of the vast swamp persisted in his mind, although he hadn’t breathed it in for days. Thoughts flashed through his mind: his old home, his family, idyllic peace. It was perfect. Remembering his home was his one final attempt at keeping sane.

Red hoods. Burning flesh. Ilivarri.

Visimar was patient, ignoring the memories. He waited for his trance to end, but something was different. He didn’t stir. He did not wake from his trance. Something dark had a grip on his fractured mind. Was it his attempt at reunion with his fallen ally?

No. It can’t be. He told himself. That shard is no longer within me. The visions ended. It failed.

He attempted again to end his trance, but to no avail. Whatever or whoever was influencing this was stronger than his feeble mind.

Llar’Quell constructed itself before him. He knew his village in an instant, and he knew something was terribly wrong. Crimson flames tore through the houses. A deep, red fog blanketed the sky, turning the moon scarlet and impure. Visimar’s home was under siege.

The night I was taken? He paused. Whose eyes am I seeing this through?

No response was given to his questions. All Visimar could do was watch, held hostage by this great force. The bombardment of Llar’Quell was a horrific sight, especially through the eyes of who appeared to be its perpetrator. Yet, no red hoods were to be seen.

Visimar continued to watch, attempting freedom from this vision yet again. The being walked up the stairs of the House of Cormrane, lifting an ornate halberd from the body of a guard, drained of its blood. Finally, he saw a glimpse of the body he possessed. Long black nails, an ice white hand. It was familiar, yet so unknown.

What are you doing here? The house of Von Tann is left, by the water mill, this is Illiva-

He was no longer able to think. The being he was observing had silenced him. Visimar was the sole captive audience to this grim sight. Forced to watch as the front door opened with no push. The once ornately decorated entrance room was torn apart. Paintings were ripped from their frames, and priceless artefacts were shattered beyond recognition. A hand raised, and a crackling blast shot from its old, pale fingers. The door to the basement broke, and was easily taken care of by the halberd.

Now weaponless, the being began its descent into the basement. Whispers swarmed its mind, Visimar’s too. Familiar voices brought fear and anger to both of them.

'Honourable men are forged in the fire of loss.'

As quickly as this whisper came, in an attempt to halt the attack. It was shook, replaced by awful screams. Visimar heard Vilwyn, Kharmir and Callidus begging for their lives. He heard Byron’s screams, the sound of alchemists fire raging.

The hands of the being lifted before it’s eyes. Before turning to a decorative rapier on the wall. In one swift action, a finger was severed. Dark necrotic energy shot from the wound, surrounding the hands in this darkness most foul.

Then it entered the room.

Families sat in fear, begging this sole attacker to grant them mercy.

No mercy was granted.

One by one, each man, woman and child fell, as this being swooped from wall to ceiling, biting necks and attacking with its necrotic claws. Within minutes only one remained. The mother of Ilivarri. The head of the House of Cormrane. Visimar watched as the being threw the drow around the room. Torturing him to near death. Her fingers were removed, her eyes gouged, before she was finally hung from the wooden beams of the basement by her feet. The being took one final meal. No blood remained in this body.

'We don’t have much time together remaining.' A familiar voice spoke from the being’s lips. 'Our future is but a linear path, a path of vengeance and power.'

Visimar was petrified, watching the being walk towards a grand mirror, spotted with blood.

'Oh Visimar... how long I’ve been waiting for our Queen to allow me to talk to you.'

The being looked in the mirror, and Visimar saw himself. He was bald, with crimson tears leaking from his dark eyes. He no longer hunted for food, it was now sport to him.

'Lancion gave us a gift, Visimar. He’s one with us now. Our Queen has granted us the power we deserve.'

He had Lancion's shard in his chest. It was implanted perfectly, with black veins crawling out of the hole.

'Our time is up for now, Visimar. But I will return, I will guide you to this grand future. Just you wait, you will see the world’s cleansing. The future is ours, Visimar. You will see what true power can give you.'

The reflection of the glass shard began to warp the mirror.

'Just you wait. Your vengeance is near.'

The mirror shattered, and so did the grasp on Visimar’s psyche. He awoke, sat in his room in the Taproot Inn. He took a long breath in and began to get ready to leave for the day.

Visimar would not let this dark future happen.

By Brandon Hattam